


Time to Themselves

by Nehszriah



Series: The Thick of UNIT [11]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gordon is probably panicking when he shows up to work and Mum's not there, I just wanted an excuse to finally let these two go at it, Nehs wrote prawns, Prompt Fic, Smut, inappropriate use of a panic room, not TTOU-compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5725498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehszriah/pseuds/Nehszriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a day of mopping up messes, Mainframe UK's Director and Head of PR get some quiet time alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time to Themselves

Malcolm straightened his tie and checked himself over in the mirror. While it wasn’t a requirement to wear a suit into work now, he liked to keep up the gesture and stay looking in top form most days. There were times when all he was feeling was slacks and a nice polo shirt, but keeping his overall look sharp was essential in order to keep the little shites in line.

While he was checking over his hair, his mobile began blasting The Commodores. He picked it up and answered, putting it to his ear cheerily.

“Who fucked up this time, love?” he asked.

“There’s a car waiting outside—we’ve got to get a move on, _now_.”

“Keep hold of your knickers, I’m coming.”

Malcolm hung up the phone and pocketed it. Keys, wallet, specs, shaded specs, the memory wiper that he’d found intensely useful as of late—within minutes he was out the door and a few more and he was stepping into the car where Kate and the Scarfys were waiting for him.

“Fuck, _both_ of you? It is bad, isn’t it?”

“The Ceasefire is not in trouble, but we’re here as representatives of both races,” Left Scarfy said.

“We will try to stay out of the way, since we are not checked out for combat, but this is only a hope,” Right Scarfy added. She moved her scarf aside and opened her jacket, showing the UNIT standard-issue handgun strapped to her shoulder. “It feels wrong.”

“Don’t worry—I know the feeling,” he replied before glancing at Kate. “What’s the trouble?”

“Yet another construction company dug a bit out-of-line and woke up some Silurians,” she growled. “One of these days, those morons are going to start listening to protocol and double-check before altering dig plans.”

“How bad is it?” Malcolm repeated.

“Three Silurians dead, five Humans, one Zygon,” Kate answered.

“…hence the Scarf Twins.”

“We do try to make appearances only when absolutely necessary,” Right Scarfy said.

“Good on ya,” he nodded. Malcolm frowned as he was passed a tablet and scrolled through the details. Might as well get acquainted with the details in full before arrival.

* * *

Everything was finally under control. Sure it took a bit of shouting, some threatening, and even inventing a couple new colorful euphemisms, but it was done.

“Fucking hell,” Malcolm cursed as he flopped down on the couch in Kate’s office. “One of these days we’re going to arrive at a scene that we can’t mop up, and then what? Mass chaos that’d make Orson Wells wank over it from beyond the sodding grave.”

“That’s one way of putting it, but our job is to make sure that never happens,” Left Scarfy deadpanned. She was over at Kate’s desk with Right Scarfy, the both of them delivering the reports of their month’s work to Mainframe UK’s Brigadier Director personally. Right Scarfy put a box with technical-seeming bits and bobs on the low coffee table next to the couch and placed her hands on her hips.

“Don’t you have a flat to go back to?” she scolded. “Your niece might worry about you.”

“My Lex is fully capable of surviving on her own for a few more hours, and if not she has my mobile number,” he snarked, folding his hands behind his head. “Don’t you have shit to blow up or Godzillas to create or whateverthefuck it is you two do in the dungeons?”

“There’s work to do, but it’s also time to go home,” Right Scarfy sighed. “We have to rest sometime.”

“Like I care; go home and be a randy teen’s wet dream, because I’ve got claim to the most comfortable couch in all the Mainframe.”

“That’s Director Stewart’s couch.”

“Precisely.” Malcolm closed his eyes and settled in as the Scarfys left, allowing him to remain in Kate’s office alone. He laid there, genuinely comfortable, silent until the Director herself walked in and jumped at the sight of him.

“For fuck’s sake, Malcolm; go home,” she groaned. “It’s been a long day for all of us.”

“When are you going home?”

“When Gordon comes in for his night shift.”

“Then let me keep you company until then, since that’s not for another couple of hours. Gordon’ll like that his mam’s being taken care of,” he replied.

“Should I text Lex to tell her that her uncle’s decided I’m his sitter?” she sniped.

“Ach, you wound me, pet,” he chuckled. He craned his neck and watched Kate as she walked over to the coffee table to take the box and put it on her desk. As she bent down, he copped a feel of her rear, eliciting decidedly less reaction than he anticipated. “Not in the mood?”

“Let me organize this stuff first, then we can discuss what to do to kill time,” she replied. This gave Malcolm hope as he continued stretching out over the couch cushions. He closed his eyes and waited, his dream eventually coming true as Kate sat down on his hips. “Done?”

“Hardly, but I think a rest is well-earned.” She leaned back into the couch, propping her arms up along the top. “The thing is though, what are we to do?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” he grinned. Wriggling so that she was sitting on his knees, he leaned down and began to kiss her thighs, doing his best to massage her legs through her denim trousers.

“I don’t know… the window is right there. We could get caught…”

“Put she shades down.”

“Morton could come in.”

“…panic room…?” He glanced up at her underneath his lashes, a cheeky, pleading expression plastered across his face.

“Make it good, Tucker,” she purred, kissing him gently on the forehead. The moment she stood he jumped to his feet and they went over to the spot in the wall where she pressed her hand against the faux wood paneling, prompting it to sink into place and roll away to reveal the entry to her panic room.

It was mostly a one-room flat, just like Malcolm’s, down to the fact that she mainly used it either to spend the night or escape the noise and stress of the molemen and get some work done. Her was definitely more homey than his was, however, with doilies and a vase of silk flowers and real wooden furniture instead of the off-brand IKEA shit that was one floor down and hiding behind a cupboard wall.

“One day, I’m going to be here long enough to be this established,” Malcolm mused, scanning the items on her writing desk. She had framed photos of her kids, of her parents, of herself as a child, with a new one that was a shot of the two of them, fast asleep on the couch at her house. He picked it up and examined it. “Where’d you get this?”

“Fiona took it and gave it to me last week,” Kate said. She waited until he put down the photo before easing his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over the back of the desk chair, turning him around to face her. Pulling down on his tie, she kissed him with a sense of purpose, with a clear mission in mind. “Now I didn’t bring you in here to socialize.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Quickly, Malcolm bent down and picked Kate up, just barely able to carry her over to the bed. He made a mental note in the back of his mind to pick up going to the gym again as he placed her down and hopped in over her. Kiss, undo a blouse button with his teeth, kiss, button, kiss, button; he worked his way down until her top was open and her belly bare. More kisses were littered across her torso as he worked on her bra and began teasing the top of her trousers. A careful push back and he found himself being undressed, her quick hands, smaller than his own, made simple work of his tie, shirt, and vest.

It took a bit of maneuvering and shuffling, but eventually Kate found herself where she belonged: snogging Malcolm from above as she pushed him down by the shoulders while grinding teasingly up against him. They were fully naked now and she could feel the muscles of the body underneath her begin to tighten in anticipation, ready for her to mount. This man adored her, wanted her, knew how her life was and accepted it without question. She took him in-hand and sank down on him, smiling to herself as he threw his head back and moaned in pleasure.

Okay, yeah, the sex was really fucking great, let alone the fact that shagging a coworker meant that her beau knew intrinsically what was going on in her life, but probably the best thing that had returned to Kate’s life was the stuff that came after the sex, long after she came and Malcolm made little grunting noises while either filling up his condom or shooting a blank. It was the cuddling that she really enjoyed, when she laid down half-atop him, half in his side, and they’d pet and snuggle and try not to let their backs get strained.

“Mmm… Kate?” he murmured into her hair.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if I we got together earlier in life?”

“How early are we talking about?”

“Early enough for Fiona to be a Tucker, either by birth or by a young name-change.” The room was quiet, the only sound being the tick-tick-tick of the clock on the wall. “Do you?”

“No,” she muttered into his chest. “I try not to dwell too much on decisions made in the past—when you have access to a man in a time machine, the past becomes dangerous.”

“I see.”

“Why…? Do you think about it?”

“Naw, just a thought,” he lied. He reached over her and pulled the blankets back over them. “We’re already the best-fucked people here; no use making everyone else jealous.”

“That’s your ego talking,” she laughed hazily, settling in for a short nap. Kate went to sleep with Malcolm drawing patterns on her shoulder, worrying his brow while he tried to get in a couple winks himself since the world wasn’t in any state of ending. He loved it too, but sometimes, he couldn’t help but think about all the times he had possibly missed out. At least they were together now, and that was what mattered in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Malcolm's ringtone is "[She's A] Brick House" by the Commodores. While part of that story was prompt, part was wanting to write them banging, part was also me wanting to get that joke in and I regret nothing.


End file.
